


just like a river i come back again

by RUHX



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Dirty Talk, Double Anal Penetration, M/M, PWP, Threesome - M/M/M, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-06-24
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:28:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24901582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RUHX/pseuds/RUHX
Summary: “He told me he has a fantasy about both of us fucking him at once,” Rossi says, dropping his voice to a whisper. Singers sees Cooke’s face turn a blotchy pink under their gaze and he sinks in his shirt and distracts himself with getting it off properly. Rossi doesn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence, he’s into the idea. It’s been a fantasy of Singer’s too, he's thought about what it’d be like with all three of them together but he’d never imagined he’d get to experience it. He’s curious, almost jealous Cooke’s going to be at the receiving end.
Relationships: Private Cooke/Private Rossi/Private Singer (1917)
Kudos: 12





	just like a river i come back again

**Author's Note:**

> I fell in love with Singer even though he has idk 5 seconds of screen time and this fic happened *finger guns*
> 
> I HC Singer's first name as Peter and I don't take criticism.

The thing with Cooke and Rossi started as a comfort thing until it wasn’t, until both were invested in some complicated love triangle neither seemed to mind being involved with. It suited their needs near-perfectly.

With Cooke sex is always desperate and needy, a fast-paced affair—good for letting go of pent-up nervous energy. Both Singer and Cooke would be happier for the rough fuck, more at ease with themselves, more at ease with the situation the war found them in. With Rossi it was softer and slower. Singer went to Rossi when he was overwhelmed with emotion, the older man would take his time taking Singer apart and putting him back together again. It was cathartic, not uncommon for one of them to cry whilst the other to kiss them through the emotional release as if their lives depended on it.

There had been one particularly memorable time where Singer had gotten wounded and when he next had leave after recovering he’d gone to Cooke to feel alive. It’d been a rough and hard, spit-as-lube job, Cooke on top pounding into him and the resulting orgasm had been ripped out of Singer’s body. Cooke had cried into Singer’s chest for a while afterwards, telling him to never be stupid like that again whilst Singer had laid there carding fingers through Cooke’s hair whilst he sobbed, feeling completely not knowing how to react.

Rossi had been softer, he’d seen the vulnerability in Singer’s eyes, noted how he’d become shy and self-conscious with the wound—still an angry red line across his chest. He’d had Singer stand naked in front of a full body mirror whilst Rossi had stood behind him, a solid weight to lean against. Rossi had told Singer how beautiful he looked, turned Singer’s complaints about his body into positives whilst slowly stroking his cock. When Singer couldn’t bear to see his face screwed up with tears threatening to spill over any longer Rossi got him to focus on his eyes. He’d cried so hard that night he’d been exhausted afterwards but it was the clearest his mind had felt for months.

Singer wonders what Rossi and Cooke would be like together. He wonders if Rossi’s all rough hands and harsher words, telling Cooke to stop being so bratty and needy—the older man has that duality to him. He wonders if Rossi’s kind and gentle after, if he lets Cooke fall asleep in his arms. He wonders if they’d ever let him watch until Rossi brings it up in that casual way of his. 

He and Cooke scored leave on the same day as Singer, all pure chance but Singer reckons Rossi cashed in a favor so Rossi invited him to tag along. It’s not worth any of them hopping back over the channel to visit friends and family so Rossi talks about renting a room somewhere. Singer and Cooke both agree; Cooke looks up into Rossi’s eyes all pleading like he seems to know where he’s going with the idea. 

On the way there, Cooke all pent up energy, almost skipping side-on to Rossi telling some story Singer stopped paying attention to five minutes ago. Rossi calmly walks forward, never missing a beat not even when Cooke jumps in front of him and walks backwards for a few paces. Singer rolls his eyes and Rossi catches the gesture with a smile. Cooke blunders on through his narrative completely oblivious. 

They wander through the French town for a while, just taking in the view. People carry on as normal the best they can, none of the soldiers passing in and out of HQ set up in what was the town hall pay no attention to them. The inn they find with rooms available is on the outskirts of the town. 

He heads inside, finds the inn is old and run down but for what they want it’s better than fucking in a dug-out where anyone could walk in on them. The maid at the counter glances them over, notes the British uniforms and gives them keys and directions to their rooms without further question. 

It’s a small room that has a worn-looking single bed in the middle with an iron frame that’s starting to rust. Wallpaper peels off the walls and the whole room has an old, musky smell to it. A full pitcher of water sits on the bedside table next to it.

Cooke starts undressing, expecting the proceedings to lead to sex. Rossi lets him strip down so he’s starting to pull the itchy greyback shirt over his head before he stops Cooke, holding the shirt down whilst his head’s free but his arms are still trapped inside. 

“We need to discuss this first,” Rossi says firmly. Cooke sighs dramatically, sits on the bed and looks up to Rossi for whatever he may ask. Instead, Rossi looks to Singer, leans in close.

“He told me he has a fantasy about both of us fucking him at once,” Rossi says, dropping his voice to a whisper. Singers sees Cooke’s face turn a blotchy pink under their gaze and he sinks in his shirt and distracts himself by trying to get it off properly but manages to get stuck. Rossi doesn’t need to finish the rest of the sentence, he’s into the idea. It’s been a fantasy of Singer’s too, he’s thought about what it’d be like with all three of them together but he’d never imagined he’d get to experience it. He’s curious, almost jealous Cooke’s going to be at the receiving end.

“Yes,” Singer says. Rossi cocks an eyebrow at him for agreeing so fast, as if he’d expected Singer to be disgusted or hesitate but Singer thinks he’d agree to almost anything as long as Cooke or Rossi suggested it. Rossi pads over to the bed and helps Cooke out of his shirt, whispers something to him that’s so soft Singer only just catches his name. Cooke consents to whatever Rossi asks him with a mumbled _yes_ like he can’t believe his luck. A nod from Rossi tells Singer the plan is a-go. 

Singer strips off carefully, leaving his clothes together and climbs on the next to Cooke, gets him to lay down and distracts him with a messy kiss. It allows Rossi time to watch, time to get his clothes off and settles between Cooke’s legs. Singer feels the moment Rossi begins to toy with Cooke’s hole more than sees it, still staring into sharp green eyes, Singer’s aware of how Cooke arches into the touch—hears how he sighs when Rossi pushes a finger in. He wants to sit up and watch Rossi’s clever fingers working but getting to see Cooke’s reactions close up is just as captivating. 

Cooke’s shy at first, not used to having both Singer and Rossi’s attention on him at once. Singer empathizes with that, but he also sees when Cooke starts to get into it. When he throws his hips up into Rossi’s touch more wildly and stops trying to bite back his moans and whimpers when Rossi touches him just right. Singer finds himself murmuring praise to Cooke and that only seems to encourage him to become more needy. He keeps his hands on Cooke’s face, runs his fingers through Cooke’s coarse hair. When it looks like Cooke may come from fingering alone, Rossi pulls out and Cooke complains about that vocally.

“Manners doll, we’re doing you a favour here,” Rossi tuts and Singer sees Cooke debating backtalking. He decides against it as Rossi glances to Singer and gestures for him to take Rossi’s spot between Cooke’s legs. With one last messy kiss, Singer leaves Cooke and takes his position, Rossi kneeling behind him. Singer eases into Cooke slowly, feels Rossi’s hands hot on his back—steady, grounding, guiding. His breath tickling Singer’s ear as Rossi continues to murmur filth. Cooke moans sweetly as Singer pushes into him. When he bottoms out he has to take a breather from the intensity of it, of feeling both men so close. Cooke’s impatient and rolls his hips up, asking Singer to get moving. 

“ _Charles_ ,” Rossi says in a warning tone—the same tone he uses on Singer when he gets bratty. The tone sends a shiver down Singer’s spine and Cooke stills almost immediately, looks at Rossi with wide, pleading eyes, the way he does just before he starts to beg.

“You can move Peter—keep it slow, make him feel it,” Rossi’s tone is softer now but a note of authority lingers that Singer feels compelled to obey. He does what he’s told and starts to move in short little movements building up to pulling almost all the way out and pushing all the way back in. He keeps it slow but it’s hard, resisting the urge to fuck faster, harder. 

Singer still expects to feel Rossi’s finger in his hole that he near jumps when Rossi’s fingers tease Cooke’s hole, brushing against his cock as he fucks in and out. They both gasp when Rossi works a Vaseline coated finger in, Cooke’s hands grip the sheets a little harder and Singer moans at the tighter press around his cock. As he slowly fucks into Cooke, Singer sees how his face screws up with pleasure, how tiny pleas and repeated curses tumble out of his lips. Rossi slowly works two fingers into him and Cooke _whines_ at the exact moment Singer moans. Under him, Cooke’s withering and panting and Singer wonders if Cooke will last long enough for Rossi to squeeze his cock in. 

As Rossi continues to spread Cooke’s hole impossibly wider, both Singer and Cooke moan into the touch, moaning as Rossi spreads his fingers wide and curls them down before pulling out to repeat stretching Cooke further. Singer keeps his pace slow—slow enough he feels how Cooke twitches around him as he shivers and his breath hitches. 

“That’s it bambi, keep going, you can do this, _be good_ ,” Rossi’s talking to Cooke who whines in response and Singer mourns the lost opportunities to talk filth to Cooke—to see his cheeks heat at the words, to feel how hard those words hit as he squirms and clenches around Singer’s cock and to hear him moan on queue to the filthy praise. _Next time_ , Singer tells himself. He’s here to be an extra cock, to make Cooke feel full and used. To help push Cooke to limits he thought he could never reach, to realize a fantasy he never thought could be fulfilled. though Singer finds himself wishing their places were switched, wanting to know what it feels like to be stretched so far.

“W-wanna be good, m’ being good, _please,_ ” Cooke mumbles out between breathy moans, he looks ruined already, hair sticky with sweat and plastered to his forehead. He’s flushed with effort and breathing hard, thighs trembling and mouth hanging open as both Singer and Rossi work at his hole. 

“Pull out darling,” Rossi murmurs to Singer. He does a beat after Rossi asks, stops so his cock rests on Cooke’s empty, gaping hole and feels how it tries to clench around nothing. Rossi gives Singer’s cock another coating of Vaseline, his touch makes Singer groan and it’s an effort not to fuck into it. He lines up under Singer and they push in together, Rossi guiding Singer’s hips forward, pace maddeningly slow, allowing Cooke much needed time to adjust. 

“Fuck—too much, _too much_ ,” Cooke whines, hands grappling with the sheets, seeking something to hang on to as he’s filled. 

“Is my good boy not as greedy as he thinks?” Rossi asks, his tone verges on mocking but Singer realizes he’s giving Cooke a chance to tap out. Cooke shakes his head.

“No, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, _please_ ,” Cooke whimpers, voice light and airy. 

“It’s okay bambi, I know it’s a lot and you’re doing so well, being so good for us, that greedy hole of yours swallowed up both our cocks so easily,” It’s meant for Cooke but Rossi murmurs the words into Singer’s shoulders and he can’t help but shiver in response.

Singer moves in time to Rossi at first, taking his queues on when to thrust in and pull out. Eventually they find their own rhythms, moving at counterpoint to each other, Singer pushing in as Rossi pulls out, the pair using Cooke’s moans to find something that works. The pace stays slow but seeing Cooke so hard and hearing his vocal approval, feeling him try to fuck upwards and feeling Rossi’s cock drag under his sets a fire burning in Singer’s stomach. 

It doesn’t take long before Singer’s overwhelmed with sensation, moaning almost as loud as Cooke and it doesn’t take long before he feels an orgasm rush up on him.

“Close,” he bites out, wondering how far along Cooke is. Cooke just nods in agreement, rendered non-vocal from the overwhelming sensations and the overwhelming fullness he must be feeling.

“Come for us darling,” Rossi says, his voice so soft. 

“I want you to come before him, Peter, think you can do that for me?” Rossi whispers in Singer’s ear. Singer nods and a needy little noise slips past his mouth when Rossi pulls on his hair. The heat in his stomach burns brighter, Singer’s that little bit closer to coming.

“Good boy,” comes the response. Singer moans, makes a mental note to ask Rossi to talk dirty to him next time they fuck. Rossi keeps his hand in Singer’s hair but gives him room to continue fucking into Cooke and it takes one stroke, two strokes before he’s coming, cock buried deep inside Cooke. Singer swears his vision whites out with the intensity of the orgasm and it takes a few moments for him to come back to himself. Singer’s grounded just in time to feel Rossi’s release. The crude sound of their cocks slicked with come, Cooke’s breathy moans and the creak of the old, worn springs on the bed fill the room. 

“Touch him doll,” Rossi says, reaching round Singer to offer the Vaseline tin. Singer takes a generous amount and works his hand over Cooke’s cock, feels precome drip down into his fist.

“So close wanna come—let me come, please,” Cooke babbles out as he rocks his hips up into Singer’s grip and onto his and Rossi’s cocks. Singer grips Cooke a little harder, pumps his fist a little faster. Cooke comes with a broken sounding curse, back arching up into his orgasm. Singer whines as he feels Cooke’s muscles quiver around him, as he feels the sticky warmth of Cooke’s come dripping down onto his hand.

“Good boy, we’ve got you Bambi,” Rossi murmurs, transfixed on Cooke as he’s worked through his orgasm.

Behind him, Rossi slowly pulls out. Singer follows suit and settles next to Cooke, feeling heat radiate off him. Rossi finds a damp rag and cleans them up, he’s so careful with Cooke. 

“Wanna feel,” Cooke murmurs, reaching down between his legs. 

“Careful darling,” Rossi warns but guides Cooke’s questing hand. Lets him feel how stretched out he is. Cooke breathes out a sigh, tenderly spreading with some of the lingering come around with his fingers. Singer wonders how he can tolerate it, he must be so over-sensitive right now that Rossi cleaning him had to be near unbearable. He doesn’t complain, doesn’t resist when Rossi moves his hand away to finish cleaning him. 

“You were so good for us,” Singer tells him and Rossi makes an approving noise. Cooke nods, fucked out and happy, his eyes heavy with the need to sleep. Rossi gets rid of the rag and curls in on the other side of Cooke, between the two of them they have Cooke snug in the middle. The bed’s not big enough for the three of them to lay side by side but they make it work. Rossi pulls a light but scratchy blanket over them and they go to sleep like that. 


End file.
